


Hold Him Gently

by VJR22_6



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28571295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VJR22_6/pseuds/VJR22_6
Summary: The tower is cold, but Launchpad's hugs are warm.
Relationships: Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack
Comments: 11
Kudos: 65





	Hold Him Gently

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! This one was written for Tumblr user @/jessyjraws as a 2020 Secret Santa gift! It's mostly just a little winter/cold weather inspired fluff, but I hope you like it!
> 
> As always, please leave comments if you enjoy, and I wish all of you a lovely 2021!

Drake gazes out at the empty tower and sighs, breath billowing out like a dragon’s fire. It curls as it hits the cold air of the evening, then dissipates entirely. It’s not even five, but the sun’s already gone, and with it any hope of warmth. It’s not easy to heat the whole tower, especially not the big main room.

He shrugs off the cold, bending over a folder of notes. Fenton’s calculations go over Drake’s head, all the numbers blurring into one big block of text. It’s frustrating, really, not being able to decipher the math that’s gonna bring Gosalyn’s family back to her. He wants nothing more than to just be the best he can for her.

She’s off at a sleepover with her newfound friends at the moment. Where he’d assumed the quiet left in her wake would be welcome, it’s honestly haunting. She’s usually bouncing around the place, doing target practice or building things—which often explode—-and talking without taking a breath every minute she can. Plus, with WANDA mid-update and casting a purple glow over Drake’s work, the silence is… well, overwhelming.

He puts his hands to the sides of his head, clutching at his feathers. He had hoped he’d be able to focus easier tonight, with everyone off doing their own thing, but if anything it’s harder. He really doesn’t understand Fenton’s reports and there’s absolutely nothing stimulating in the background to help get his brain going.

Still, he does his best to untangle it, one bit at a time. If they build the Ramrod like before, they’ll just encounter the same problems Bulba did, or worse. One more rift might cause the end of the world the first time it opens, so they have to find another way.

That’s about the point he gets lost in science jargon. Fenton’s come up with some ideas to harness the Solego Circuit, but the plans and parts are foreign to Drake. One, an interdimensional scanner, seems to cut out the rift-opener part of the Ramrod. They could use it to simply find the dimension Gos’s grandpa is trapped in, but there’s a note about how it might not be strong enough to reach all dimensions.

Which means they might miss the one-in-a-million where their target is.

He flips to another plan, skimming over the complex explanation. Maybe they can just work out a pros and cons list next time he talks to Fenton? That would sure be easier than trying to decipher what a “three-quarter pinckney flange” is and why it makes this particular solution hard to—

“Heya, Drake!”

“Huh? Oh!” He turns in his chair, even as he recognizes the approaching voice. “Hey, LP.”

“Gos and Dewey are gonna spend the night at the mansion,” he explains, unzipping his bulky jacket. “But I figured I’d come back here in case you wanted to do patrol or hang out or—if you wanted to, that is, I—if you—”

“That sounds pretty good, actually,” he remarks, fighting a rising blush. “I’d, uh, I’d like that. If you want to.”

Launchpad has such a charm about him, especially if he gets emotional or flustered. Drake isn’t much more composed himself, but years of acting practice help him at least _pretend_ otherwise.

LP steps up beside him, putting one of his strong hands on Drake’s much smaller shoulders. He bluescreens for a moment with the unexpected gentle contact. The pilot looks over the pile of papers he’s perusing, but his attention shifts to Drake just as quickly.

“Hey, Deedubaya, how long have you been at this?”

“Uh… a while. Why?”

“You’re cold to the touch,” he laughs, teasing, but still gentle. “Come here.”

Launchpad pulls him into a hug, strong arms holding him close. Drake closes his eyes, returning the hug and resting his head against Launchpad’s chest for a moment. Listening to his heartbeat, rhythmic and soothing, until all of the work—and the stress that comes with it—is forgotten.

He and LP haven’t been going out for more than a few months, but the tenderness isn’t unwelcome. Launchpad’s been in many relationships, so this is a practiced dance for him, and beyond that, he’s naturally sweet and physically affectionate. Drake’s still finding where he fits, how to love Launchpad in the way that he needs and deserves.

He wonders if he’s ever going to be enough, some days, because it always feels like LP is the one caring for him. Always pulling him away from work, driving Gos around whenever she needs it, even going on patrol after a full day of work in Duckburg. What does he have to offer but a tower that hasn’t been warm since October, and a bunch of VHS tapes, all with—

“Hey, LP?” He doesn’t lift his head or open his eyes, still relishing the loving embrace.

“Hm?”

“Do you wanna go watch some Darkwing with me?”

“Always,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Drake’s head. “I could make cocoa, too, if you want.”

“That sounds lovely.”

They briefly part ways. LP heads for the kitchen, collecting discarded fast food bags and forgotten dishes along the way. Drake heads for a stack of boxes he’s yet to unpack, seeking a couple of blankets for them. He already gave Gosalyn his nicest one, and he’s not quite sure where the rest of them ended up.

He finds one, a thick and rather big one that could… fit… around them both. That gives him an idea. If he can only find one, well, isn’t that a perfectly good excuse to cuddle a little closer?

They meet back up in the living room, and Drake takes a steaming mug of cocoa in his cold hands gratefully. One sip, and he’s already beginning to thaw a little. There’s marshmallows bobbing at the top, and the chocolate is rich and sweet.

“Launchpad, have I ever told you I love the way you make this?”

“Only every time I do,” he laughs, holding up his arm so Drake can settle in by his side.

It’s like a puzzle, and LP is the piece he needs to feel whole. He’s big, and always seeking a hug, where Drake is small and always wanting one. They wrap the blanket around each other and it’s like he’s _home_ without ever having gone anywhere at all.

They watch tv together until the Darkwing tape ends, and by then Launchpad’s fallen asleep. Drake switches the TV to a Yule log, and the sound of soft music and a crackling fire fill the tower. He rests his head against LP’s chest, and closes his eyes to get some rest.

He’s warm at last.


End file.
